White Stripes Under

Baby Pierre has been guarding the reed hole for longer than he expected.

The spider, a maratus cristatus, has not come back out.

And Gaius has not arrived to observe it.

Perhaps something has happened to Second Dirty.

Baby Pierre has a fine sense of direction.

Perhaps Second Dirty has not.

But hey-ho. He can afford to wait longer.

He approaches the reed hole.

What is a reed hole?

Is it a reed hole?

What else would you call it?

He is thinking out loud.

The maratus cristatus can hear him.

It peeks out through its round spider eyes.

It's a hole where a reed was, says the maratus cristatus.

So it is a reed hole, says Baby Pierre.

He says it as though they are having a normal conversation.

Although they are not.

What are you here for? asks the maratus cristatus.

Baby Pierre does not feel he should say exactly.

It might frighten the maratus back into its reed hole, before Gaius arrives.

Instead, he answers the larger existential question.

What am I here for? says Baby Pierre. To extend my horizons. To give my own life some meaning.

The maratus cristatus wants a more specific answer.

I mean why are you standing outside my reed hole?

Baby Pierre decides after all to be honest.

Because you're inside it, says Baby Pierre.

Half inside it, says the maratus cristatus.

Would you like to come right out? asks Baby Pierre. Then I could examine your pattern.

Pattern? What's my pattern? asks the maratus cristatus.

Come out. I'll describe it to you, says Baby Pierre.

The maratus cristatus comes out. It's the colourful union jack pattern.

You have red and blue stripes on your abdomen at the head end, and white stripes at the back end, says Baby Pierre.

Sounds cheerful, says the maratus cristatus. Anything else you can tell me?

A red zigzag pattern on your head, says Baby Pierre.

Like you! says the maratus cristatus. Perhaps we are brothers.

My pattern's black, says Baby Pierre. And it's a one-off. Yours probably isn't.

Black, red, one-off, two-off, says the maratus cristatus. All the same to me, brother.

Baby Pierre is about to dispute this when he has a flash of intuition.

Brother, says Baby Pierre. How would you like to meet one of our cousins?

No, thank you, says the maratus. I have many cousins.

Not like this one, says Baby Pierre. She doesn't have legs, but she has white stripes underneath and she says she knows the future.

Three intriguing attributes. He must meet this cousin!